By Andy Chesterfield ’16, member of a Bicker club I’m the first to admit that Bicker isn’t perfect, but recent discussion about bicker being “elitist,” “superficial,” and “pointlessly detrimental to campus social life”…

Dear Squirrel, you probably don’t remember me, considering that you were too busy being a dick. I tried to get by you on the street, but no. You were too busy turning an acorn around in your weird little skeletal paws. Not even eating it or intending to bury it. Just spinning it.

Mondays are band-aids that take 24 hours to rip off; weekly plagues sent from above to ensure people never have fun for more than six days in a row, unless you’re on vacation, in which case, karma will get you eventually. But if the human race collectively hates Mondays with such passion, why keep them around?

Dirty-looking white guy standing over a grill? We’re talking to you. Your mix of flannel and apron is neither aesthetically pleasing nor oozing sex appeal. And let’s face it, you’re probably going to burn the shit out of those steaks and end up ordering Domino’s anyway.